


Release

by Nicholas_Lucien



Series: Songfics [4]
Category: Forever Knight
Genre: Angst, Constrained Writing, Depression, Gen, Religion, Songfic, vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:28:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26557393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicholas_Lucien/pseuds/Nicholas_Lucien
Summary: Alone for a few days, Nick thinks about his life and the progress towards changing himself.
Series: Songfics [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1580884
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	Release

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by the song 'Release' by Imagine Dragons. Since lyrics cannot be posted here, you can do a search for the lyrics to find them. The title of this story comes from the song title.
> 
> The story takes place over a few days in Season 3 before 'Night in Question' and 'Sons of Belial.'
> 
> The section of the Bible in this story contains the chapter and verse mentioned in 'Sons of Belial.' The verse is: "He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief ..." 
> 
> I do not own these characters and is not intended to infringe upon any copyright owners. No profit is being made from this work.

Nick let out a shuttering breath while slowly flexing the fingers of his right hand. There was pain when he stretched them out, but he knew the skin and underlying muscle would soon be healed. He turned his head and, from his position near the fireplace, glared across the loft at the full bottle of human blood sitting on the table near the kitchen. Nick clenched his eyes shut and turned away, disgusted with himself that he still craved it, still hungered for it. Nick slowly flexed his hand again, the skin still tingling as his body continued to repair the burn damage. He leaned his head up against the blinds and shutters covering the window and blocking out the sunlight. Nick protectively cradled his hand and ignored his thirst by focusing on waiting for the sun to set and one more day to end.

His hand had finished healing by the time the setting sun had disappeared; wiggling his fingers brought no more pain but he felt weaker. Nick had not moved from his position near the windows, though now the shutters were up and the blinds opened so he could see part of the city. As close as he was, surrounded by mortals and life, he still felt alone, as if he was twenty miles from anyone. He pushed off the window and flopped into the black leather armchair closest to him. Dropping his head into his hands, Nick fought back against the whispers floating through his mind, reminders of how he would feel connected if he just drank human blood. Using almost all his strength, Nick pushed that desire away. Raising his head up, he let it drop against the back of the chair and stared at the wooden ceiling.

Nick closed his eyes, remembering his mortal youth and how he had never felt alone back then. Even when he was out in the fields and forests, away from everyone, he still hadn’t felt that. As the priests and monks had told him, he never really was. God, he had been taught, was always there, and if he was quiet enough, he could even hear Heaven talk. He never did, but had hoped one day he would. Nick bolted upright as other memories forced their way out: the deaths, the fighting, the pain, the betrayal, his choice, so many more deaths. He pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes, trying to stop and push those memories back into the dark where he usually kept them. When they finally left, Nick dropped his shaking arms and sighed weakly.

Opening his eyes, he looked at the small table in front of the leather sofa which had upon it the object that had burned him. Nick turned away and stared out the window into the darkness again. After centuries, he believed again that Heaven could talk, but just not to him unless he changed. He knew nothing good would ever come for free, and there had been nothing good in him anymore, not after choosing to become and behave as a vampire. Nick rolled his head back to look at the Bible he had gotten out. He had hoped, with all he had done, that there was something in him, something good and redeemable. But the book had burned him as it always had, and he knew whatever he was doing it wasn’t enough. He had let himself down, failed to live up to his promise to be better. In desolation and feeling utterly alone, Nick tightly curled up into the chair.

> > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > >

Having spent too much time balled up in the chair, Nick needed to stretch his cramped muscles before walking over to the kitchen table. Then he walked away, just to return again. Nick wanted that blood, that contact he would have with a human life, human memories. He wanted to feel connected. But then he would think he was letting himself down and would resist the temptation and walked away. The further Nick got from the bottle the more isolated he would feel and the desire to end the loneliness would envelop him. Convinced because he responded to the temptation so easily there was actually nothing good within him, he would return again to the bottle and the promise that he would be released from the solitude, the promise that he would never be alone again. Nick delicately reached out and lightly touched the cork stopper. All he had to do was pull it out and he would never be alone. He slowly retracted his hand. He would share in the mortal’s life for a short time, be someone for a short time, but then he would be alone again, and again he would have to find more blood. Nick retracted his hand and walked away from the bottle once more.

> > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > >

Leaning forward, Nick sat on the sofa and stared at the open Bible. He had seared the tips of his fingers again, though be barely registered the pain. He had been adding up all the lives he had taken and all the lives he had assumed since the last time he could hold that book without burning. Now he was counting all the lies he ever uttered, all the petty lies he told with LaCroix and Janette to everyone to mask what they really were. Nick sank back into the leather cushion. So many lies he agreed to tell in the hope that he could be someone - someone of value - someone he wasn’t. Maybe even, Nick thought with desolation, someone he never was. Perhaps it had always meant to be this way – that’s why he had never heard Heaven as the monks had. He was fated from the beginning to not be a member of humanity, that Heaven always knew he would never be there. He moaned with the realization that there had never been any good within him, and he would never be released from the travesty of his existence. Nick clenched his eyes as his shoulders slumped.

> > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > >

Natalie punched in the code, entered the warehouse, and then the freight elevator. While she waited to be lifted to Nick’s loft level, she tried not to worry too much. She had been working overtime the whole weekend and, with Nick off, she hadn’t expected him to drop by. He also hadn’t answered her phone calls or Tracy’s and, though still not unexpected for Nick, she worried. Joining the police force and then later getting partnered with Schanke had been good for him. However, after Schanke’s death, she had begun to sense the return of the aloofness and loneliness that had been a large part of Nick when she first got to know him. Once the elevator had stopped, Natalie raised the grille and slid the door open.

Walking into the dark loft, Natalie felt some relief that the shutters were closed, keeping the sunlight out. She always worried when he left them open after sunrise. Looking around, she didn’t see Nick anywhere, but she saw a bottle on the kitchen table.

Walking closer, she recognized it as Nick’s emergency bottle of human blood - the bottle she officially didn’t know about. Natalie frowned. “Nick,” she tentatively called out, listening for any response. The squeak of leather caught her attention, and she quickly moved to the living space, going around the leather armchair. There she found Nick, curled up on the leather sofa. He was dressed in black, blending him almost seamlessly into the cushions. Worried, she went to him, dropping to kneel on the floor.

“Nick,” Natalie spoke again, trying to get his attention. He looked much paler than usual, his hair disheveled, and his hands tucked inward. “Nick,” she tried again while gently touching his shoulder. He moaned in response and dulled slate blue eyes looked up at her. Natalie tried to get him to sit up so she could make a better assessment of what might be wrong, but as soon as she reached for his hands, he jerked away from her as far as he could on the sofa. She also noted how protective he was of his hands. Her concern deepened, fearing something was really wrong. “Nick,” Natalie soothingly began, “it's me, Natalie. Let me look,” she said as she touched his wrist and gave a gentle tug, “I’m just going to look. I won’t hurt you.” Nick’s gaze wandered around the room, but he didn’t fight her anymore when she pulled his hand out. Tenderly, she opened his hand and immediately saw the reddened, burned tissue on the fingertips, and what appeared to be partially healed burns. Natalie looked back up at Nick. “What happened?” In response to her question, she saw Nick clench his eyes tightly shut.

After delicately laying his hand back on the sofa, Natalie got up and looked around the loft to find what might have caused the burns. She turned to look at the fireplace, knowing it was off now, but thinking there might have been a fire going earlier. She went over and, with the back of her hand, got close to feel any residual radiating heat, but the area was cold. Standing up, she turned around to look at the kitchen, thinking that perhaps he had tried to cook some food and something had happened. Before going over, she went to Nick’s side again, to reassure him, when she noticed something new on the coffee table. Going over, she looked down on the Bible, opened to chapter 53 of the book of Isaiah. Natalie quickly reached down to close the book and move it over to the piano, far from Nick. She recalled Nick saying crosses made him feel weak; she could only imagine how a Bible might affect him. Placing it down on the piano cover, her fingers skimmed over the surface. Looking at her fingertips, she now understood how Nick had gotten his burns – he had been touching the pages. Repetitively, Natalie concluded, which would explain the partially healed skin. She went over to the kitchen to grab the bottle off the table before returning to Nick’s side. He seemed a little less tense, and she attributed it to moving the Bible away from him. With some gentle coaxing, she eventually got Nick into an upright position.

Sitting up, Nick’s head cleared a bit, and he was more aware that someone was near him. With some effort, he was able to focus and identify Natalie. He watched her reach towards the table and pick up the bottle of blood. There was nothing else on the table. He tensed. “Where is it? Nat-”

“I moved the Bible, Nick. It’s on the piano.”

“I was reading it,” he explained.

Natalie gently skimmed over his healing fingers. “I can tell.” She grabbed the cork, ready to pull it from the bottle. “Nick, I need you to drink this. Can you hold the bottle yourself?”

“Can I ask you a question, Nat?” Nick asked while staring at the fireplace and ignoring the bottle. He trusted her, would believe her. She never lied to him, while he had lied to everyone.

“Sure.”

“Am I evil?” He shifted to look at her. “Am I a damned, unredeemable creature not worth anything?”

“No, Nick,” Natalie stated while shaking her head. “You’re not evil. You are a good person.”

Trembling, Nick shook his head. “But what I’ve done-”

“You are not evil,” Natalie interrupted. “You have made … bad choices … and you have made good choices. You wouldn’t carry the regrets you do if you were evil, and I wouldn’t be here if you were.”

“But what I am-”

“You are not the vampire, you are separate.”

“But look at me.”

“Yeah, you look like a mess,” she said with a smile which was soon matched to Nick’s and he seemed a bit calmer. “Have you been at this all weekend?”

Nick nodded. “I got caught up ….”

She reached out to keep him upright when he began to slump over. “When was the last time you drank anything?”

He slowly blinked and frowned, trying to concentrate on the question. “I don’t remember.”

Natalie knew it would take Nick some time to pull himself completely out of the dark place he had sunk into over the last few days. But first, he needed to physically heal, which meant drinking something stronger than protein shakes or cow’s blood. She held out the bottle to him again, but Nick pushed it back. “What do you want me to get for you?” Natalie asked, thinking he might need something fresher and tried to remember how many new bags of blood were in the fridge at the morgue.

“I want to be released," he pleaded while pushing his palm against his chest, “from this.”

Natalie put the bottle down and then sat down beside Nick on the sofa and put her arms around him. “That’s what we’re working on, Nick. And I’m not going to leave you, and I’m not going stop looking for a cure.” She reached for the bottle. “Don’t give up. You need to drink this now, but one day you won’t have to.” She waited a while for a response and was relieved when Nick finally held his hand out for the bottle.


End file.
